Broken
by bellasera
Summary: Chapter 18 posted. Angst, drama, and the hunt for the truth....
1. Default Chapter

**Disclaimer: I own zilch of the original book, musical, etc. Wish I did.**

Backstage the normal pre-performance chaos reigned. Dancers stretched, Piangi ambled through tugging at a twice altered but still to snug waistcoat. Carlotta's dog yapped at the maid for another treat. Few in the cast worried about the reception of this new opera, they would be paid regardless. A couple of chorus members joined Carlotta's entourage, joking that if _Don Juan Triumphant _failed here the crew at the Moulin Rouge could perform it. "It's certainly crude enough for that end of town", stated one girl as she unsuccessfully tugged at her low cut bodice. Carlotta nodded in agreement. "Si, and zee worst part isa that little rat singing zee lead." Mme. Giry gave a furious scowl as she bustled through with props in tow. "You should not speak that way in the presence of the composer!" as she looked around, knowing that it was most probable that _he _had heard the comments.

"The composer is not 'ere, and if 'e were 'ere I would…." Carlotta was cut off quickly. "Are you certain of that Signora?" Mme. Giry said harshly. "Surely you of all people would be aware of the problems that can occur when the Opera Ghost is displeased." Unable or perhaps afraid to retort, Carlotta stormed off.

Christine remained in the shadowy corner. Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, she looked anxiously around and then above the backstage area, yet saw nothing abnormal. A deep breath did nothing to quell the wave of nausea and nerves inside her. Closing her eyes only helped replay the events which had led to this evening. _If only I hadn't gone to the cemetery…if I weren't such a fool, such a traitor… if only… if, if , if… _Her eyes clinched tighter in an attempt to stop the errant tears. Raoul had seemed so confident as he told the plan he and the managers had concocted.

"Surely that monster," as Christine cringed at the word he held her hand tighter.

"That thing will not want to miss his opera's premiere, especially if you sing the lead." He mistook her fearful look as worry about her safety. "Do not worry love. The best marksmen will be stationed all over the auditorium, one shot is all they need."

"But…" she started.

"There are no buts Christine. This is the only way and it wouldn't even be necessary if you had let me finish him at the cemetery."

"I told you Raoul. I could not have a murder at my father's grave. Surely you can understand." Christine had tried not to look like the traitor she was. She could not, would not risk the destruction of her Angel.

"I sincerely doubt he would have obliged your favor had the roles been reversed my dear. As it stands, this is the option left to us. As long as he lives, he will haunt us 'til we're dead."

Christine hugged him close. "Forgive me, Raoul. I am so sorry."

He clutched her tight, feeling quite the hero yet oblivious to her true meaning. He lifted her chin and glanced into teary eyes. Giving her a soft smile, he leaned in to kiss her lips, but Christine jumped up.

" I will be late for the rehearsal. I must go."

"Wait, I will escort you. You do not need to be alone in this place."

"I am hardly alone Raoul. There will be people everywhere, and how seeming would it be for you to be seen at my quarters?"

" I thought you were going to the stage." He looked at her curiously.

"I will after I retrieve my music from my room. Do not worry about me. Unless I am late and then M. Reyer will have my head."

Raoul laughed lightly. "You are the star now, my love. But if you insist I cannot deny you. I will see you for dinner after the rehearsal." Christine squeezed his hand as they left the chapel and parted at the end of the corridor. Dashing to the dormitory, she grabbed her music and then looked for paper and pen. Finding them she hurriedly scratched several lines, stopping only to blot away where a tear fell. Sealing the letter, Christine rushed out the door while fervently praying Mme. Giry would know how to convey the message.

The orchestra tuning brought Christine back to the present. Taking another deep breath she walked quietly to Mme. Giry. Before Christine could open her mouth the older lady spoke softly. "I have not seen Erik." Christine's eyebrows arched quizzically. "He has a name child. All I could do is leave the letter where he might find it. I'm sorry, but he has not been communicative of late."

"Yes, Madame. I understand. Thank you for trying." Christine willed her voice not to break. Mme. Giry watched her and sighed as Christine walked back as the stage manager called for people to get in their places. _Find the letter Angel…Erik… please._

The last of the audience found their seats. Looking across to Raoul, the managers nodded. Turning to the chief marksman, Raoul whispered instructions and then turned back to nod at Andre and Firmin. Within a minute of the chief's signal, the gendarmes were stationed at every door, box, and aisle. Few in the audience paid any attention once the cacophony of sound began from the orchestra pit. Quick glances at programs, light coughs behind gilded fans emphasized the audience's discomfort with the music's assault on their ears.

The curtains parted, revealing a set design of blood red cloth, ropes, and an illusion pit of flames. High above the stage as golden eyes watched all, lips curled into a smirk. The audience's slightly audible gasp was heard even from that height. The stage was a representation of the hell about to be unleashed. What else had desire, lust, and passion brought him but this maddening hell that would end tonight? He quietly slunk down from the flies with all the stealth of a cat hunting prey. Before he could cross over behind the backdrop his eyes caught a flash of white lying on the rail beside the top step. _What does Giry want now? I haven't time for this_. As good as Mme Giry had been to him through the years, he found that he could not ignore the missive. Creeping quickly over, he grabbed the letter and slid back into the shadows. Good lighting wasn't necessary for him as he quickly ripped the seal. Surprised not to see Mme Giry's even script, but an uneven scribble he began to read.

"Angel, I hope this reaches you.. Forgive me," Here he squinted as the ink had a smudge. _How droll…what an actress she remained, another false tear for poor me,_ he thought. And quickly continued to read.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- Again I own zilch.All lyrics are from the musical/movie. Just having fun writing for the first time in a long time...well something that isn't required for a class.

A/N- To Countess Alana I will try to update as much as possible but between work and life...and maybe some sleep too.

RozzandMaya Thanks for the compliment. Descriptions I can do...dialogue I find difficult!

And although this has nothing to do with the following work of fiction...I have to share a funny moment. My music students are working on a medley from POTO for their next concert. Funny that a bag of papers falls out of chair when a wrong note gets played. Back row jumped up quick. Hmmmm. fun to make them wonder. Anyway I digress... so here goes.

Chapter Two-

"Angel, I hope this reaches you.. Forgive me," Here he squinted as the ink had a smudge. _How droll…what an actress she remained, another false tear for poor me,_ he thought. And quickly continued to read

. "They plan to trap you at the performance." _Does she think I am so ignorant? I know what is planned in **my **opera house!_

Please do not come near" _Oh yes I am very well aware of what my face does to you. You lying, sneakyDelilah but the Phantom of the Opera shall not hide behind a woman's nay, a child's skirts! This is my opera, my moment!_

But the angry resolve turned questioning upon reading her last line..." Please, I beg you, stay away and safe. My Angel, my soul, my love...C"

_Erik you fool, don't be swayed. _he thought. _Remember Eve was the downfall of Adam. Yes but..._another voice argued..._ what a downfall it could be! Let her see what is contained in you and see if she falters. She if she believes this is where her soul, her love lies..._ And with that last thought Erik descended to the stage, prepared to seal whatever fate awaited.

Raoul smirked in distaste as the chorus began its opening number.

_Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat!_

_Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat!_

"Good God how crude can the monster be?" he questioned under his breath. "What kind of show have I allowed Christine to be in?" That answer was more clearly defined as the chorus continued...

_Poor young maiden! For the thrill on your tongue of stolen sweets! You will have to pay the bill-tangled in the winding sheets!_

_Serve the meal and serve the maid! Serve the master so that, when tables plans and maids are laid _Raoul flinched visibly at the line

_Don Juan triumphs once again!_

He began chattering to himself..."We will have to leave Paris after this. How can I say my wife had sung in this, this filth. Phillipe is already wanting to throttle me...this would certainly be reason enough. I know, I know she just will not sing. The plan can go to hell..." and with that he jumped up from his seat in Box Five and ran out sliding into an elderly boxkeeper. "Sorry, sorry. Emergency" and left the woman to find her own way off of the floor.

Raoul's legs could not move fast enough, and trying to get to stage level through all of his strategically placed marksmen was damn near impossible. He was down to the stage corridor entrance when he heard her voice.

_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!_

Frantically he ran to the door, grabbed the handle, and found it locked. His hands ran through his hair as he tried in vain to think of another entrance on the same side. Behind the red drapes in the back of the stage, another pair of hands grabbed the edges of a cloak and lifted its edges to eye level. Stepping over the garroted body of Ubaldo Piangi, the Phantom took a deep breath and prepared to make his stage debut.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- Remember me, I don't own this. POTO belongs to other wealthier and brighter people.

A/N- Sorry this is so short, it really is more of a segue way than a complete chapter. Also the marksmen are set up around the auditorium (not in the backstage area as in the movie) since it suits my purpose. There is more to come and more in depth. If this doesn't work for ya'll….tell me. My feelings won't be to hurt.

Chapter 3

Christine knew it was _him_ the minute his voice sang out sotto voce…

_Passarino, go away for the trap is set and waits for its prey._ He came out from behind the drapes. How he had managed this almost amused her. Although the stage doors had been locked no guards were posted. The managers had thought it would interfere with the flow of the performance. Glancing up through her lashes, Christine could see them whispering to each other, oblivious to the cast change that had just occurred. The audience, in their ignorance of an opera's debut, would not realize it as anything major. Just another strange character in an obscene production.

_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent, silent. _Her demonic angel crept upstage, putting his finger over his lips as if daring her to keep the ruse going. Christine began to stand up, the shoulder of her costume sliding down despite efforts otherwise.

_I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge- in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me (_here he stole a longing glance at her exposed shoulders)…._now you are here with me: no second thoughts…_ Christine looked down at the floor and then nonchalantly glanced up at Box 5 and immediately noticed Raoul was gone. Erik followed her gaze, but stepped closer and continued. _You've decided….._ Raoul was gone, and as he sang the next line she turned to face him. _Decided…. _


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- Thanks to the reviewers…hopefully this will be a little easier to read than the disjointed short chapters. I am trying to get inside E/C's minds as PONR was being performed. Course I plan to change the end a good bit so I can diverge into my own wacky ideas. Raoul will eventually find his way back into the story. I mean he can't sit outside a locked stage door forever...FYI lyrics are in _italics_ and internal thought processes that need to be declared to faithful readers are in **_bold italics._**

Chapter 4

Erik's intense eyes had not missed Christine's glance up, nor did he misread her look of confusion as she noticed Raoul's absence. What he was completely unprepared for was the hungry look in her eyes when she turned back to fully face him. **_Has she any concept of what she is truly doing?_** The slight smile on her parted lips answered for him and he daringly continued the melody from **his** libretto, from **his** masterpiece.

_Past the point of no return- no backward glances: our games of make believe are at an end..._

Erik hardly dared believe that the event unfolding in front of him was not the product of his own fertile imagination. But as he walked behind Christine, daring to let his hands run along her bare shoulders the smooth reality that was her flesh assured him this was no dream. Christine's head turned, her eyes following him, never shirking away from his cool hands.

_Past all thought of "if" or "when", no use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend..._

At that moment Erik's own ability to resist her left. Within a heart's beat he was behind her, pulling Christine roughly against him.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

His arms went of their own accord, around her neck, around her waist. **_Do you burn with this fire too Christine?_** Erik wondered in amazement as she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He could feel her heart pounding as his hands roamed, could feel Christine's breath fluttering.

_What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us... _

He allowed to the last syllable to decrescendo into a hiss as he nuzzled her ear, smelling her hair, before pulling back and moving over to stand close beside her. Taking her hands tightly in his he continued..

_Past the point of no return, the final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no return?_

The removal of his warmth against her back jolted Christine from her reverie. Realizing her lines were about to start, she willed her trembling limbs to be steady. Glancing up she saw Box 5 was still empty. **_As long as I give no signal and stay close, you will be safe my Angel_**. His recently sung words reverberated through her consciousness. Christine was past the point of no return, she **had** decided long before now. The reasons flooded back- saving her Angel from Raoul's wrath at the cemetery, being drawn to his presence at the Bal Masque, wanting to keep the sham she called an engagement a secret. He overwhelmed her, terrified her, and yet her soul would not deny him anymore. Allowing her heart to follow her soul, Christine turned to face her captor and her salvation. Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes and began to sing...

Raoul felt chills as he heard **_that_** voice. The devil himself would have such a voice. How did the monster do it? Raoul stopped his mental debate, realizing time was working against him. He turned away from the locked door, quickly retracing his steps back to the corridor and taking a left to go to the other side of the stage. His hopes plummeted as he found that entrance as secured as the last. Knowing that the only access to the stage would now be through the auditorium itself, Raoul dashed back the way he had come. Turning back right, he cursed the demon and his damned opera.

**Surely Christine will give the signal,** he thought as he returned to the original hallway. **She must realize _what_ is on the stage with her.**

Raoul began his ascent of the stairwell when her voice rang out.

"Thank God, " he whispered, but his prayer quickly died on his lips. The timbre in her voice was as he had never heard, but the words were not of alarm. They were those he had heard in the rehearsals of _Don Juan Triumphant_. He broke into an unadulterated run up the stairs, rage building as he heard the erotic lyrics spilling forth from her beautiful soprano.

"By God or the devil himself", he spat as he entered the atrium and turned to the grand staircase. "This will end tonight!"

_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence...silence._

Unaware of her fiancé listening backstage, Christine reveled in the opportunity before her. Using every ounce of training and passion that he had taught her, Christine made Aminta's lyrics speak for her own soul. Surprised at the dark timbre her voice developed, Christine never wavered her eye contact with Erik. Determined for him to understand, Christine deviated from the choreography she had so distastefully rehearse with Piangi. Choosing to now run her hand up his arm she continued,

_I have come here hardly knowing the reason why_

The rest of her body followed her hand as she came to lean against him. Christine saw the fire leap in his eyes. He knew the next line, how could he not? This was **his** creation. Her voice was his as well, she would flood him in it. Taking his hands in hers, she led him to hold her as he had that first night in his home. Freeing a hand to caress his cheek she closed her eyes and sang

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent._

The blatant suggestiveness overwhelmed Christine, making her wish to be off the stage. Wishing the audience gone, to be able to sing this, become this for him alone...the thoughts in her head made a seductive smile flicker on her lips as her shimmering brown eyes reopened to look upon him again. Christine turned around to face him, taking both of his hands and continued

_Now I am here with you: no second thoughts. I've decided_...

She lightly kissed their entwined fingers...

_decided._

The motion of a guard shifting his rifle to the opposite shoulder caught the corner of Erik's vision. Amazed that he had been so easily distracted, Erik forced his consciousness to take stock of the pressing situation in the auditorium rather than remain focused on the situation eagerly pressing against him.

Knowing that the majority of the gendarmes would have a more difficult shot at the elevated balcony, Erik pulled his hands away from Christine. Following his original stage blocking, Erik turned and walked to the stage right staircase. Mentally willing himself to look nonchalant, he paused at the base of the staircase, hoping Christine would go back to the original choreography.

He steeled himself against the disappointed look on her face. **Stubborn child you don't have time to pout**, he mentally admonished her. As if able to read his thoughts Christine slid back into character and without missing a step reverted back to the original choreography. Turning away she began her walk to the opposing staircase.

_Past the point of no return-no going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun_

Christine tried to keep her frustration at bay. **Of all the times for him to actually follow instructions he picks now! Here she was willingly opening herself to him and he goes back to the original blocking...No wonder he's following the instructions - he wrote them**. Almost wishing for him to trip on his damned cape, Christine decided another tactic instead. Leaning over the wooden railing she caught him mid step and sang

_Past all thought of right or wrong-one final question: how long should we two wait before we're one?_

Seeing his mouth drop at her blatant display, Christine turned back and continued up the stairs. Erik gathered his wits and began his climb anew.

_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

Reaching the top of the staircase and the upper limits of her emotions simultaneously Christine faced him, hiding nothing and completed her lines..

_When will the flames at last consume us?_

Standing at opposite ends of the elevated balcony, Erik and Christine paused for what seemed an eternity yet could not have been more than a beat of the music.

**The music**, Erik wondered, **is that it? Has it blemished her with its dissonance? This music could rape the senses- has it stained her soul, tarnished her somehow so that such innocence could sing with such passion?** Knowing nothing else in the world but Christine and the pound of the music, he stepped forward.

**The music**, Christine wondered, **is that it? Had this fulfilled him, were the notes enough? Ghost, genius, Angel...Erik. This music bared his every emotion. Was it enough for him to only dream or sing of the baser passions of a humanity from which he had been exiled?** Knowing nothing else in the world but Erik and the pound of the music, she stepped forward.

A/N Hope this edited version works...


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer-The story, names, lyrics all belong to me...yeah right!

A/N- Lyrics are _italicized_, thoughts are **_bold italics_**. Hope ya'll like it.

Chapter 5

Not a soul in the audience dared blink away from the mesmerizing duo walking towards one another high above the stage. Since the arrival of the new tenor the audience had been captivated. It was as if the pair was living through the lyrics- every nuance of desire, need, and uncertainty poured through them and resounded throughout the auditorium.

In the wings members of the cast were under the same spell, watching in breathless anticipation of the next moment. The dancers were hesitant to make their entrance, not wanting to disrupt the energy above them. However the sight of a stern ballet corps director emerging from one of the dressing rooms was enough incentive to urge them onstage.

Before Mme. Giry had the opportunity to question or discipline she heard **his** voice ring out. Looking upward confirmed her suspicion that he was actually **physically** there. (Many times his natural talent for ventriloquism had spooked the ballet girls.) Madame Giry tried to look inconspicuous as she hurried to the curtained back area of the set, praying she wouldn't find what she expected.

_Past the point of no return, the final threshold……_

Christine did not know how she kept control over her body. Every fiber begged her to burst into a run towards him. Instead she kept her head up and poured the emotion into her song. So close to his touch, just a step or two more, one more phrase to sing and she would be home.

For the first time in his thirty odd years Erik was oblivious to the onlooking masses. His focus was entirely upon the heavenly siren pouring her musical soul out before him. Previously it had always been him pushing her vocally, this was different. Even at her technical best, Erik now had no comparisons to draw to Christine's impassioned and amazing voice. Erik knew he must do the same, for in this moment his emotions were being realized rather than simply reflected upon. He would not disappoint her, they would triumph together.

_ The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn…_

Meeting in the center of the elevated bridge, they each frantically reached out for the other. Erik turned Christine roughly against him, holding her as though afraid she would evaporate. Christine leaned back against him as if to make contact between every inch of their bodies.

Madame Giry quietly slid underneath the back drape. Crossing herself when she saw Piangi's body, she knelt to say a prayer for the man and the chaos that would most likely ensue. As the older woman attempted to turn the obese man from his side to his back, she was startled. Sure she was imagining the movement under the ruffled shirt, Madame Giry leaned over Piangi's face. A prayer of thanks whispered from her lips as she felt his slow breath on her cheek. Working quickly, Madame Giry unwound the Punjab lasso from his neck.

Hiding the thin weapon upon her own person, she turned back to Piangi whispering, "Your fat neck saved you Monsieur, or perhaps Erik was in to great a hurry."

Piangi's neck would be badly bruised, perhaps even his voice damaged, but she knew he was fortunate to have survived. She heard the duet above the stage coming to a close.

"Love is making you careless Erik." Closing her eyes upon all the known agonies he had suffered, Madame Giry took a halting breath. "I hope it is worth it…" She glanced back down at the now snoring Piangi "And what am I to do with you Monsieur? Je ne sais pas!"

_We've passed the point of no return…._

The last note faded away with the violins as Erik and Christine continued to cling to one another. His hands, which had at first been insistent and demanding, now ghosted over her skin. Finally his hands clasped upon her wrists, drawing her arms up around herself.

Christine leaned her head back against his shoulder, tempting Erik with her neck. Ready to feast his lips upon that stretch of flesh, Erik turned as he realized the music was in its decrescendo. **_They will begin the next part of the scene, Carlotta's character will be reentering. She will sound them off gladly. Someone's bound to find that corpse any moment…I haven't much time._**

**_ Why are you tense my Angel?_** Realizing he was releasing her, Christine turned to face him. **_There is fear in his eyes…backed into a corner he will fight to the death. There will not be a fight will all these gunmen. _**

Suddenly Christine's voice rang out a capella

_ Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

Erik's eyes flashed to meet hers, narrowing suspiciously.

"No tricks, only the truth." She whispered. Moving forward Christine held her arms out and sang

_ Lead me save me from my solitude…_

**_ Impossible, I must be going mad._** Erik's brain yelled at him. **_She doesn't know the truth. I would destroy her. Something this hideous cannot have something so glorious….Heaven wouldn't allow it. I am a monster, a murderer, unloveable…and hers alone._**

Erik stepped to Christine taking her in his arms. Clutching her to his heart he sang back…

_ Say you want me with you, here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too._

She pulled back to look him in the eyes, smiling and with tears in her own.

_ Christine, that's all I ask of you_. 

Erik's last word was cut off as Christine's lips reached his. Unbelieving, Erik began to pull back, only to have her two small hands placed on each side of his face, keeping him where he was. Unsure, but willing to learn, Erik mimicked his hands upon her soft face. Instinct prevailed and they clung to each other as the kiss deepened and intensified.

Raoul burst through the door of Box 5. The guardsmen turned and put his finger over his lips.

"Beg your pardon sir, but I don't think the audience wants to be disturbed. You know it started off a little rough, but now it's quite good sir."

In disbelief Raoul stepped forward and looked out. Every person in the audience from aristocrat to concierge was staring, engrossed by the entwined singing figures upon the stage.

"That's not Don Juan." He growled upon hearing Christine sing.

His knuckles turned white as he viciously grasped the railing. Nausea overwhelmed him as he heard that creature sing back to her while holding Christine, his fiancée. Taking a deep breath in order to yell out the alarm, he choked upon it as the lips of his fiancée and the monster closed upon each other's. Black rage overwhelmed Raoul, in an instant he grabbed the rifle off the gendarme's shoulder, fell to his knee, aimed to the elevated bridge and fired.

A/N How will everyone like this ...Je ne sais pas (I don't know) but please review. I have several ideas about the direction of this plot, but if you have any to put in let me know! Your obedient servant...M.E.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer-yeah yeah we all know that none of the original good stuff is mine. Enjoy anyway.

Chapter 6

Black rage overwhelmed Raoul. In an instant he grabbed the rifle off the gendarme's shoulder. Falling to a knee, he aimed at the elevated bridge and fired.

The sounding of the rifle was too little warning against the missile that it ejected. Erik was reeled from the pinnacle of the heavens as Christine suddenly jolted back from his embrace.

"NO! God no.." his eyes widened at the sight of the blood running down from her jaw.

"What?" her voice cracked as she realized she was the one hit. The panic overtook her when Christine touched her hand to her neck and drew it back to see crimson. Swaying dangerously close to the rail, she reached out for her Angel.

"I'm here. Sss.. st.. stay calm…" Erik pulled her down, kneeling at her head and tried in vain to follow his own advise "Let me put pressure on…"

"NOW!"

Erik shrank down as the other gendarmes tried to hit their original target. Christine pushed at his hands.

"Fly... my... angel."

"**No**, I will not leave you."

"They will….kill…you…" now shaking from shock, Christine failed at her attempt to take a deep breath. "Please my…. love." The last word came as a wheeze.

" I will find you."

At that she smiled and closed her eyes. Erik crawled back to the center of the bridge. Looking at the audience he saw some of the men reloading and others pushing their way through the panicked audience to the stage. He would have to stand to release the lever of the trapdoor. Erik glanced back at Christine's still form. **_The faster I leave the faster she can get help. If there is a merciful God… no. There is only the hell I bring. _**

"Erik!"

In the chaos he barely heard his given name being yelled out.

"Antoinette, she is hurt!"

"Run." Madame Giry was pushed aside by the rush of people before straightening back up. "Run, Erik! I will get to Christine. Go now!"

At that the Phantom of the Opera stood and grabbed the lever. Hesitating to take one more look at Christine, Erik recoiled as the bullet entered his shoulder. Staggering back he pitched the lever forward and was plunged into the pit below.

The gunfire ceasedwhen the Phantom plunged below the stage. Already the gendarmes were dividing up to begin searching the premises. Raoul jumped onto the stage, and dashed up the right staircase. "Someone get a doctor!"

Mother and daughter ascended the opposite staircase.

"Oh Christine!" Meg's eyes filled with tears at the sight of her friend's bloody form.

Raoul looked up at them, "Where can we take her?"

"Meg, go tell Monsieur Nadir that he must come here quickly, a singer's been shot. Bring him to my quarters." Madame Giry motioned for Raoul to pick Christine up. "Allez vite, Meg. There is no time to waste." The girl dashed off looking like a practiced sprinter, pushing her way through the throng backstage and disappearing around the corner.

"An….gelll?" the moan was barely audible as Raoul gathered her in his arms.

"No love, no angels yet. You will stay here many more years, just hold on." Raoul carefully picked his way down the stairs. "Meg's off to fetch a doctor and we'll get you patched up. Just hold on love." Reaching the bottom of the stairs Raoul allowed Mme. Giry to take the lead. She grabbed one of the guards.

"We will move faster if you accompany us." He hesitated only a moment before seeing the bleeding form and nodding.

"Yes, madame. I will lead the way, just tell me where to go."

The gendarme pushed a path throughpeople, as Madame Giry directed him through the backstage area. Suddenly they came upon Ubaldo Piangi, conscious and being treated by the opera house physician. Raoul pushed past Giry and gendarme yelling,

"Sir we have a gunshot wound here!"

The physician turned away from Piangi and blanched at the sight of the blood drenched woman. "Mon Dieu!" He looked up the hallway. "Take her into that dressing room quickly!"

Madame Giry held the door as Raoul came through and lay Christine upon the small cot.

"I need more light," the physician quickly opened his bag. Raoul lit the other lamps in the room and motioned for the gendarme to exit.

"You," he motioned to Madame Giry, "Get me clean cloths and hot water." She hurried out the door. The physician took Christine by the chin and carefully lifted.

"Hold the lamp here," he motioned Raoul to do so as he began to assess the damage. Taking a cloth from the returning Madame Giry, he carefully wiped away some of the blood. More seeped to take its place. Putting pressure on the larger wound, he tentatively pressed along her jawline, stopping when he found the hole. Now assured of a difficult night he turned to the waiting duo and stated the simple truth.

"The bullet must come out."

**_Who in the heavens would be knocking at this time of night?_** Nadir rubbed his eyes as he walked to the door, candle in hand. Looking through the peephole, he was more than surprised to see Meg Giry, dressed as some sort of Spanish style prostitute. Sitting the candle on the entrance table, Nadir quickly opened the door

"Child, what brings you here in such a state? Is your mother…"

Meg cut him off. "Maman is fine, Monsieur. But my friend." Here her voice cracked, but she continued. "And I am to tell you that a singer has been shot and that you are needed to help."

"Child, I am not a doctor…"

" Oui monsieur, I know. But you are one of the few people that may be able to help the injured singer. Maman said to come to her quarters. Please sir, I need to hurry back to my friend."

Nadir nodded as he understood Meg's meaning and motioned for her to enter.

"Give me a moment to dress, child."

Minutes later, the pair crossed the streets and tried to enter the opera.

"I tell you, there isn't time to argue! My mother is the ballet director here. This man is here to help the injured. Now let us pass!"

"Not without verification. That's my orders." The door guard had entirely to high an opinion of his position. Meg tried again.

"Do you think I would be walking around like this? My clothes match the others that were **on stage** tonight you idiot! Now someone may be dying because of you."

"Sorry mam'selle, but…"

"What's the problem here?" Monsieur Reyer bobbed behind the guard. " I would like to leave this hell sometime tonight. Let me pass."

"Sorry sir." The guard moved aside. "Just this tart trying to get in."

"What? That's not a streetwalker. She's the daughter of the ballet mistress"

"See!" Meg smiled triumphantly. "Now please let us through."

"It still doesn't account for **him,**" the guard motioned to Nadir.

"Monsieur Reyer," Meg tried to look as pitiful as possible. "Mother sent me to fetch Monsieur Nadir to help with the injured. We have to hurry. Tell this man I mean the truth."

"I will vouch for them monsieur. Now please let me go home." The small man sighed wearily.

"Very well. Go on." The guard hurried them past and turned to face the doorway again.

"This way monsieur." Meg turned right and went down several steps before turning to the next hallway. Stopping at the last door, she reached to the handle when her mother's voice called out.

"Meg, you took so long!" Nadir and Meg turned to see Madame Giry hurrying down the hall towards them.

"Meg, Christine is with the opera physician in Marie's dressing room. He is going to have to operate to get the bullet that's lodged in her jawbone. You may go wait there. Take these with you." Handing another bundle of cloths to her daughter, Madame Giry shooed her down the hall.

"Thank you for coming, my friend." Nadir looked at her in confusion as she unlocked the door and motioned for him to come inside.

"I am afraid I do not understand Antoinette…" he watched as she went to the far wall and removed a picture. Touching a tiny switch, the wall slid open silently. She motioned him forward. Nadir's eyes widened as he entered the small chamber and viewed the figure that was unconscious upon the floor.

Antoinette Giry knelt down beside the man. "My brother has a bullet in his shoulder. We need your help to remove it."

A/N Saw the movie for sixth time today...:) perfectly enjoyable way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Please review, it feeds my Southern belle ego. (Or stomps it flat!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer- **Yet again I won nothing of the original material.

Chapter 7

Antoinette Giry knelt down beside the man. "My brother has a bullet in his shoulder. We need your help to remove it."

"How did this happen Antoinette?" Nadir kneeled on the opposite side and began removing Erik's bloody shirt.

" There was a trap set for him. Erik and our opera's main patron are in love with the same woman. Someone took a shot and hit Christine.." she grunted with the effort of turning Erik on his back. "Then they all started taking target practice. The dancers hit the stage floor, crawling off as best they could. The damned aristocrats ran for the doors, which the managers had locked…I've no idea how many people were injured in this melee."

Nadir regarded her seriously. "And what do you risk for keeping him here?"

She began scrubbing the wound. "Everything. The entire building is being searched. I am willing to wager that they will not stop until they find his home below, regardless.." she paused to brush a stray strand of hair away. "It is not safe for him here now."

"There will be no mercy for you either." He took the laudanum and measured a dose. Erik groaned as his head was lifted up. "Drink this."

"Why….Daroga." Erik groggily looked at the man above him. "I daresay it's been quite a while….hmmm." His eyes rolled back in his head.

"How much of this has he had Antoinette?"

"Enough." She gave him an apologetic look. "He was ready to charge out to Christine, consequences be damned."

"Well let's get this over with while he is good and out." Nadir paused as Antoinette handed him a slim bladed knife. "It has been a long time since I have dug a bullet out of a man."

"Nadir….I know of no one else. Erik would trust no one else. Please let's just be done with this."

Nadir held the knife over the candle flame. "And what do we do with him then? I imagine a room this small might bring back some rather confining memories." He took the heated knife and leaned over. "Put your weight over him Antoinette." The tip of the knife entering the wound caused the sedated Erik to jerk.

Madame Giry turned her head away at the sight of the knife and its search. "I have not thought what to do after this." The sounds of flesh, blood and muscle being manipulated paled her. "I know I must keep him safe. His real family failed him Nadir. The thought of what he endured in that gypsy camp haunts me, to be a murderer at so young an age."

Nadir pulled the knife back. "Can you hold the light here and hold him? It's right there by his shoulder blade." As she helped with the requested task Nadir continued. "And what of his other crimes? Are you willing to be pulled down with him? I know what he did for you makes you feel beholden, but there are limits to everything Antoinette." He adjusted his grip on the blade. "Here we go. Hold him while I pull this thing out."

The slug was removed and held up the light. "Yes it's all here. Do you have disinfectant?" At Madame Giry's nod, Nadir motioned for her to stand. "I will finish up here. You should most likely join Meg. Your absence may seem suspicious."

She nodded. "True. I will be back as quick as possible. You saw how to work the door?"

"Yes."

"Then I will leave and contemplate some idea as of what to do next." She slid her hand over the mechanism. "Thank you, old friend. Erik and I are in your debt…again."

Madame Giry walked through the now open panel, turning back to see Nadir hard at work stitching the wound. Closing the door and replacing the picture upon the wall, she hurriedly washed up, pulled a shawl around her, and left to check on Christine.

On the opposite side of the Opera Populaire, a small crowd waited for word on the injured diva. A physician's assistant had arrived and promptly shown Raoul the door. He was pacing the hallway as Meg came up with her bundle of cloths.

"There is no need of those now Mademoiselle." Raoul's voice darkened. "Truthfully if we had had to wait for you Christine may have been gone already."

"Monsiuer le Vicomte, I was doing as my mother requested. Not only was Monsiuer Nadir not available, but I was held up by one of the door guards."

"And where is your mother? She went to find you…from those its obvious she did."

"Maman was exhausted, she went to rest a moment."

"Rest," Raoul's eyes narrowed. "There will be no rest for me until that thing that caused all of this has a noose around his neck."

"We are working diligently on that Monsiuer le Vicomte." Andre's voice seemed overly loud as he and Firmin came to join them. "The search has not and will not be called off till we find him."

"Excellent" Raoul nodded his approval.

"Ahh, monsiuer if we could…" Firmin stammered a bit. Looking over at Meg, he motioned for Raoul to come closer. "have a word with you privately? It has to do with Miss Daae."

With a curt ascent, the three men stepped across the hall. They held their tongues as Madame Giry walked past and joined her daughter in a separate conversation.

Turning on them with practiced aristocratic impatience Raoul asked,"Well Messiuers what is it?"

"The whole evening was planned according to your design." Firmin began. "We now have a numbered of injured who will demand compensation."

"Are you saying what I think?" Raoul was incredulous. _These fools thought that he would pay the bill because they failed._

"There's more, Monsieur le Vicomte." Andre coughed nervously. "The guards posted in the boxes were interviewed following O.G.'s ahem…exit."

"So?"

"None of them fired the first shot Monsieur. What will the people say when the papers publish that the Opera Populaire's patron shot the starring diva?"

Before Raoul could retort, the door of the dressing room opened and the exhausted looking physician stepped out. Perusing the crowd, he saw the managers, Raoul, and Madame Giry. Motioning for them to come over, he took a halting breath and began.

"The bullet apparently cut across her neck, and stopped in the right jawbone. It has been removed although I had to take away some severally damaged bone. If infection does not set in, Miss Daae should recover in due time."

"Wonderful news Doctor." Firmin the ever optimist couldn't resist.

"Wait Messieurs…there is one other problem. For anyone else it wouldn't affect their lives dramatically, but an opera singer." He held his hands out in a forgiving gesture.

"Well what is it?" Raoul's patience had disintegrated.

"The bullet has damaged the larynx. Miss Daae will not sing again."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 

Disclaimer-Wishing that I somehow owned this stuff, knowing that I never will.

I was bored and started to type…this is truly overkill.

Please keep reading anyway, and maybe in your heart you'll find

Some time to spare and write with care, a review would be so kind!

A/N- Sorry sense of humor there. Figure if I have to type a disclaimer, I might as well have a little fun with it. Anyway I have to take a second or two to thank my reviewers. Never did I think that someone would read this and actually like it, much less ask me to post more soon. I am doing the best I can time and idea wise, but I had to thank you. Hands out cookies to everyone!

So onto the next chapter..

Erik awoke with a start, and immediately realized his mistake in attempting to sit up. _What the bloody hell, _he wondered as the drug induced vertigo caused him to quickly lie back. Nadir jumped up from the opposite corner and quickly sat beside him.

"Easy there. The more you keep still the less dizzy you will feel."

Erik licked his lips in an effort to get some sort of moisture on them. "I am quite still now Daroga and there are still three of you in my sights."

"Considering the evening you've had," here Nadir sniffed almost amusedly, "I'd say you are quite lucky to be seeing anything at all."

"The evening I had…" Erik tensed as the events that had unfolded rushed back to him. Forgetting the man's previous advice, Erik shot up again and fought losing the contents of his stomach. "Christine was shot by that damned boy. I must…"

"Antoinette has gone for word of Christine." Nadir pushed Erik back down on the pallet while debating the advisability of sedating him with some more laudanum. "You have not had a rosy evening either. Unless you wish me to play seamstress on your skin again I suggest you lie still."

Erik then became aware of the tight dressings on his right shoulder. Reaching across with his good arm, he attempted to assess the damage before the throbbing became too much. "How bad?" he muttered half to himself.

"Considering that they were aiming for your head…not to awful. It didn't hit any vessels, but it took me a good bit of prodding to get the thing out of you."

"I'm sure you didn't mind the extra digging…" Erik turned to look at him. "An opportunity for a little payback hmm?"

"I've already chastised Antoinette for getting herself involved **again**, and you certainly know my feelings on the matter."

"Ahh yes..I am like the plague aren't I? Destructive to everything and everyone around." His voice grew softer. "Even my own mother knew it was better to be rid of me. But no worries Daroga. I plan to leave this miserable hellhole I have called home."

Nadir looked surprised. "And go _where_ with the price that's sure to be on your head?"

"Money can accomplish many things Daroga, that I have learned. It will simply be a matter of letting things cool down a bit. Then Monsieur le Fantome shall vanish as a proper ghost should."

Nadir raised his eyebrows questioningly. "And what of Mlle. Daae?"

Erik felt a lump in his throat. Sighing a bit, he closed his eyes and replied. "She has no need of the plague either." _You can only bring death to her, monster._ "Now if you wouldn't mind, I feel rather tired at the moment."

_What a horrid liar you have become Erik. _Nadir was half amused by the thought as he resettled himself in the corner. _Traveling to the other side of the globe wouldn't help a man whose soul is possessed by another._

* * *

"What do you mean she won't sing again?" Andre looked aghast.

"Simply that." The physician regarded the group. "She may eventually regain a normal sounding speaking voice, dependent upon infection and post operative swelling."

"Not that it matters.." Raoul interjected.

"I beg your pardon, Monsiuer? How can it not matter?" Meg's voice became shrill. "This was Christine's dream, she worked so hard.."

"Perhaps you do not know your friend as well as you thought." Turning to the managers Raoul continued. "This was not the way we had intended to inform you of Mademoiselle Daae's _retirement_. However, the situation being what it is now is as good a time as any. Mademoiselle Daae has agreed to become my wife, and as such would not be performing any longer."

"I had heard of no retirement plans." Madame Giry interjected.

"No you wouldn't have. Christine….umm Mlle. Daae requested that the engagement be kept quiet until this _ghost_ problem was dealt with. Since you apparently can't handle that messieurs.." Here he gave the managers a disapproving scowl. "..it seems appropriate that Mlle. Daae should go ahead and exit, particularly in light of her injuries."

Turning his attention back to the physician Raoul continued. "I will make arrangements for Mlle. Daae to be moved to my family's residence tonight." At the hesitant look of the physician he hurried on. "She will be far safer there while that thing is still loose."

"Very well, Monsiuer. Now if you will excuse me, I must check on Senior Piangi. My assistant will remain with Mlle. Daae until you are prepared for travel." He nodded his farewell and walked down the hall.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, before you leave may I make a suggestion?" Madame Giry placed a hand lightly on his arm to halt Raoul's exit.

"And what would that be Madame?"

"Allow Meg to go with her, monsieur. A friendly face would be a comfort in her recovery as well as…" her voice softened. "provide a chaperone that would dispel any harmful rumors."

"Madame after what I saw on that stage this evening one hundred chaperones wouldn't be able to stop the rumors that will fly." Raoul hissed as he looked over at Meg. "And no offense to you Mademoiselle, but I plan to get Christine away from this madness and not return. The quicker we cut our ties.." the managers eyes widened at this statement. "the quicker we can get on with our lives. No worries, however dear messieurs. You will have the money I promised as patron of the opera…..when O.G. is hanging from the end of a rope."

A/N- Please review!


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 

Thank you so much reviewers. In abject appreciation I must take a moment for some individual thank you's. (I never thought I would get 40 reviews) Anyway: big thanks to starnat, LostSchizophrenic, MissxA, OrpheliaRose, CountessAlana, cl, and sbkar. Note to sbkar-Erik did ask about Christine, but if you have ever woke from sedation you tend to be out of it, which is how I decided to write it. I appreciate your questions

And now on we go………

The softness of the violin's delicate melody made Christine feel as if she was floating in a cloud. Opening her eyes, she smiled as she looked at her father. He moved with a grace that shouldn't have belonged to someone with so large a frame, but his long fingers caressed the strings with exquisite care and love. Christine hugged her arms around her knees, swaying in time as Gustav Daae continued to play. She had heard the tune a hundred times, but could never tire of such simplistic beauty. Sitting on the soft rug in front of the warm fire added to her contentment.

The music gradually overtook Christine, so much so that she almost didn't hear her father speaking to her. Looking up she was startled to see her father, now gaunt and pale as he was on his deathbed.

"I am sorry Papa, I didn't hear you."

He smiled at her, his daughter with her head so often in the clouds. "Child I was telling you that it is time for me to go."

Christine's smile fell. "No Papa. You can't leave. Not again…let me go too."

"No, my dearest child. You can't go with me."

"But I will be alone….please."

"You are not alone Christine. Remember the angel I promised?"

"You sent him? Truly?"

" There are those who can do greater things than I." He looked sadly at his daughter. "I miss you Christine."

"Papa I don't understand. My Angel isn't real. What am I supposed to do?"

"Believe." Violin in hand, Gustave Daae walked into the shadows.

"Wait..please wait. Don't go!" Christine tried to run after her father, but her legs refused to move. Giving up, she sank to her knees sobbing. "Please … don't leave…me. Not again….not again."

Coldness descended upon her, a cruel wind whipping her hair. Christine looked around but could see no remnant of the hearth from moments before. "P..p..papa?" she whispered. "Angel?" She stood on shaky legs, rubbing her arms to ward the chill away.

Turning in a slow circle Christine finally saw a tiny candlelight in the distance. As she walked towards it, music returned to her ears, but this time it was the timbre of a pipe organ being played. After an eternity Christine reached a heavy door, freestanding without a frame. It was opened a crack, and from this small opening the sliver of light and music pulsated out.

The door had no hinges and yet it creaked as Christine pushed it open. She was back in Erik's home, but there had been no door there. Had there? She tried to clear the fuzziness from her head as she walked around. Someone else had been here, the candelabras were turned over or smashed. The model of the opera house was now a pile of ash, and a loud crunch underneath her foot announced broken glass on the floor.

"Angel?" Even the whisper sounded abnormally loud to Christine's ears, seeming to echo off the stone walls. There was no audible answer, only the continuing soft drone of the organ. Deciding to use the sound as her guide, Christine stepped in the direction of the music. Two steps later she stumbled, hitting the ascending stone steps with her knees. The lack of pain surprised her as she gathered herself and carefully tread up the steps. The lone candle was now clearly visible on the side of the pipe organ. And there, the solitary figure playing it…

"Angel!" Feeling that she would explode from her sudden happiness, Christine rushed to him. Her hand reached out to caress the unmasked cheek, and upon her touch he turned.

"Christine…"

The blood poured as his head rolled to the floor. Sightless eyes looked up at her as Christine stood frozen in horror. An uncontrolled, sadistic laugh jerked her attention back up to where Raoul now stood, bloody sword in hand. He gave an aristocratic bow.

"For you my dear."

* * *

Christine's wide open eyes did not comprehend the instructions that the physician's assistant was shouting at her. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. Arms and body flailed, not comprehending pain. She still saw the headless body of her angel. 

"No!" her voice finally hissed.

"Someone get the doctor in here!"

The cry of the assistant brought the door open immediately.

"Monsieur, what is.." Meg was cut off.

"Mam'selle the doctor quickly!" She ran out as he turned back to Christine, shouting louder in an attempt to break through to her. "Mam'selle Daae, please be still!"

He was holding her arms in an attempt to slow her thrashing when the doctor entered. "What in the name of God?" He opened his bag and quickly filled a syringe, and moved to Christine's arm. "Try to hold her still." he ordered his assistant.

"Christine!" Raoul burst into the room as the doctor inserted the needle into her arm. She looked at him with wild fearful eyes.

"My… Angel …is…" her eyes rolled back in her head as her body quieted.

Raoul took one of her hands in his as the physician moved to check the surgical wound. "What on earthhappened here? One minute she's resting and then this?"

"Hand me the suture, Pierre." The physician motioned to his assistant. "She has pulled several stitches with all that thrashing." Taking the materials in hand, he began to resuture as needed. Raoul paled at the sight of the needle being pulled through the white flesh of Christine's neck.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, it could be several things that caused this episode, from an allergic reaction to delusions from the stress. I was not in here when it began, but I will say this, sir. Whatever the reason for the episode, we do not need a repeat performance." He tied a knot as he finished the last suture. "I know you wished to move Mademoiselle Daae to a safer location, but at this time it would be ill advised. If she were to turn and rip to many sutures she could bleed to death, or the tissues around her airway could swell and cut off…"

"Your point is made, Doctor. Whatever we need to do for now." He tenderly stroked her forehead. " I will have a guard placed outside the door until she is able to be moved."

"I think that the wiser choice Monsieur le Vicomte." He checked Christine's pulse and then opened her eyelids to view her pupils. "Hopefully she will now rest for a while." Taking in the Vicomte's disheveled appearance he added, "I would advise you to do the same."

"Unfortunately, my good doctor, there is still much to do." Raoul stood and gave Christine a last look before turning to the door. "The man responsible for my fiancee's condition has yet to be apprehended. I will rest when he is dead" Opening the door Raoul hurried past Meg and to seek for the captain of the gendarmes.

"Monsieur?" Meg entered the room quietly. "Christine is like a sister to me, may I please sit with her a moment?"

The doctor regarded the young ballerina with kind eyes. "Yes my dear. Come in."

Meg moved over to sit by Christine. Taking her hand she cried softly for a moment. Aware of the doctor still in the room, Meg leaned over to her friend's ear and whispered. "Don't worry, your Angel is safe Christine."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N- I know y'all want to know what's up with Erik, but I have to include some plot development in the other areas as well. (Begs patience from faithful readers.) I want to do my best with his character and my muse is being stubborn in that area, so for the moment here is what's happening in the rest of the Opera House.

Chapter 10

The atmosphere in the manager's office was comparable to London's worst fog. Both of the Opera Populaire's managers were at a loss for ideas to remedy the latest catastrophe upon them. Contemplation took different forms for the two men. Andre impatiently chewed through his fourth cigar while watching Firmin pace the length of the room from desk to door for the hundredth time.

"What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" Firmin stopped pacing for a moment in front of the window. This madness made it almost tempting to take a leap. "It's been less than a year and we're ready to go bottoms up. By the time the papers crucify us later this morning…." He shuddered at the thoughts running through his head.

Andre regarded his business partner. "Well this _was_ your idea if you remember."

"Excuse me?"

" I believe the reasoning was, and I paraphrase from the exact quote, was that since there was no more money to be had in junk, let's at least do something where there are women involved. Well your wish was granted, mon ami."

" I don't believe you protested the idea, _mon ami_, particularly after the Vicomte's patronage was assured. As for women involved, it certainly _has not_ been me wining, dining, and bedding the majority of the ballet corps."

"Hah!" Andre threw the stump of the chewed cigar into the receptacle beside his desk. Grabbing fresh cigars from the box, he strode over to Firmin. "Those were business engagements as you are well aware of. Someone had to take care of managing the personnel of this place."

"_That's_ a new term for it." Firmin remarked sarcastically as he turned to resume his pacing. Snatching one of the cigars from the shorter man he was about to continue on his tirade when a knock interrupted.

"Pardonnez-moi, messieurs, but this," the errand boy poked his head in the door and motioned to the letter he carried. "was to be delivered to you immediately." He came into the room and handed the missive over to Firmin. "There is no need to reply. Bon nuit, messieurs." With a short bow he turned and was quickly gone. Firmin quickly turned the letter over to view the seal.

"Not another note from O.G.!" Andre shoved the remaining cigar in his mouth and began to chew vigorously.

The absence of the red wax skull allowed Firmin to release the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He opened the letter and quickly scanned the contents.

"No, Andre this is not from O.G. However," that word brought the bushy eyebrows of his partner up. "since this matter involves your area of _opera personnel _maybe you should handle it." He tossed the letter onto the desk.

Andre's face turned a shade paler as he read.

_Messieurs Andre and Firmin,_

_This letter is to inform you that I resign from the Opera Populaire as of tonight. I refuse to work in such a dangerous and unstable place. Two bigger idiots I have never known. My sweet Fifi could manage the place better. I will be departing for Rome in five days, and I expect the remainder of my contracted salary to be paid before then. Considering the chain of events leading to my resignation, I am sure you gentlemen will find that reasonable compensation for my willing silence to the news reporters._

_Ciao,_

_Signora Carlotta Giudicelli_

"Can't wine and dine out of this one, eh Andre?" Firmin's reply was muffled by the presence of the cigar.

"Oh shut up you pompous ass! This is as much your problem- _partner, _as it is mine. If we don't pay this demented diva you will have more than enough of your blessed publicity. But the take will not be vast for us, I can guarantee that. And for God's sake stand still when someone is speaking to you!"

Firmin obliged by promptly sitting on the edge of the desk. "How is that, oh wise one? So...what is your grand plan for getting out of this disaster?"

"Well our patron didn't think much of compensation for the injured, I can imagine how he would respond to the idea of paying off the ex-diva."

"Certainly. So what do you recommend?"

"Blackmail, what else?"

"You think that a wise thing to try, my dear managers?" Raoul's voice was as icy as his entrance was silent. Andre, startled at the presence of the Vicomte, stuttered to cover his tracks.

" No, no monsieur we , I mean I …" Andre took a breath to compose himself. "I was simply trying to devise a way to keep Carlotta quiet. If she is looking for a new position it would be very easy to let word escape on how difficult she is to work with."

Raoul smirked as he took a seat in the leather chair opposite the desk. "I am sure that is precisely what you had in mind. However, I am in here on a much more important matter."

Firmin interrupted. "Excuse me, monsieur but may we inquire after Mlle. Daae's condition?"

"That is one of the things of which I need to inform you. Mlle. Daae just had to be sedated due to some kind of episode. The physician advises against her being moved at the moment. A guard has been posted, but gentlemen…." He paused to look at both men directly. "I am deeply concerned for her safety while that thing is still loose. Has there been any word?"

"As of yet the gendarmes have found nothing on the upper levels or the main auditorium level." Firmin shrugged. "The men searching the lower levels have not yet reported. I am afraid it will take some time."

"I meant what I said earlier, messieurs. Take all the time you wish, but you will not get a single franc of sponsorship from my family again until that thing is caught and dead."

"But Monsieur le Vicomte, how do we know if he is even in the Opera still?" Andre's evening seemed to be headed from bad to worse as he helped himself to another cigar.

"Such a thing would only head to the depths of the hell that spawned it. Where else could he hide?"

A breathless soldier burst into the office. "Messieurs we have found a dwelling of sorts in the fifth cellar, beyond the lake."

Raoul jumped up. "Take me there immediately."

As the two men exited Andre looked at Firmin incredulously. "We have a lake?"

A/N- Thanks to those wonderful reviewers- aka starnat, gondoriangurl, orpheliarose, LostSchizophrenic,WildPixieChild16, and sbkar. Hands out cookies to all of you!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N- Now I have to thank folks who pushed me over fifty reviews. (Ok, I know that is small compared to the thousands that An Eternity of This and Demons receive- btw read those excellent pieces - ) but this ol' Southern girl is happy, happy, happy. So here are the thanks to those:

Lilymunster- a tempting idea, see note below.

Starnat-More cookies to you o faithful reviewer

Clayphan16-You aren't the only one dreaming up those ideas! I hope he drowns each time I see the movie.

Elizabeth-Thank you

Skbar-Thanks for being patient…munching cookies helps a little huh?

LostSchizophrenic- Thank you. Typing as fast as my brain and life will allow.

Soofija-You are welcome…thanks for reading my drabble!

And a super huge thank you to spikesbint, who is brave enough to beta this for me. If you haven't read her version of Past the Point of No Return I suggest you do so immediately!

Now several of you are wishing, hoping, and waiting for something to happen to our beloved fop. Be patient, I am no fan of Monsieur le Vicomte, but he serves a necessity at this point. Plus I promise that there will be Erik aplenty in the next chapter (he owns Chapter 12) And on we go….

Chapter 11-

Raoul followed the man back down the main corridor, pausing only to take a pistol from one of the stationed guards.

"What have your men found?"

"There is a portcullis cutting off a section of the lake in the fifth cellar. Four men found it, two remained while the other pair returned above to get the word out and gather some reinforcements."

"Just a moment" Stopping at Christine's room, he looked in, and was slightly surprised to see Meg sitting beside the bed. "Any change Doctor?"

"None monsieur, she has been resting quietly since Mademoiselle Giry arrived."

"Of course." Raoul sent a calculating look at Meg. "I am sure that the mademoiselle has other things to attend to since Christine obviously needs her rest." He looked back at the physician. "I am sure you would agree on that."

Meg took the less than subtle hint, and rose to leave. "Thank you doctor, for letting me check on my friend. I will see her again when she is more…" she looked directly at Raoul. "rested."

"Bonsoir, mademoiselle. I am sure she knew you were here." The kindly doctor patted Meg's arm as he opened the door for her.

"Pardonnez-moi." Meg was curious as to the reason ten gendarmes were now outside the dressing room door. "I would think one posted guard would be enough." She stated this to no one in particular.

The men parted to make way for her to pass. One gendarme, having apparently overheard Meg's comment, decided to answer. "We're not the posted guards' mam'selle."

"Oh. So this is what….the most popular gathering place?"

"No, mademoiselle. We are waiting on the Vicomte to join us." He grinned almost sadistically. "We're the hunting party. We've found the monster's home."

Meg shivered at his words, and headed back to her mother's quarters.

Back inside the dressing room, Raoul kissed Christine's forehead. "I will return soon my love and when I get back, we'll be able to put this all behind us. I promise." He stood and turned to the doctor. "Make sure she remains undisturbed. I will return as soon as we have that thing." He opened the door and joined the group of men. Finding the officer that had originally notified him, Raoul nodded curtly. "Let the hunt begin. Lead the way."

Meg very nearly crashed into Nadir as she rounded the last corner to her mother's rooms. "Monsieur are you leaving? What about .."

He cut her off as he looked around the hallway. "Keep quiet child. Your mother is still in there. I have to take care of an errand of sorts."

"Be careful monsieur, for if your errand carries you underground, you are likely to have company." Meg looked down the hall before whispering, "They have found his home."

"Thank you for the warning, now I must truly hurry on. Go to your mother, tell her what you know and she will explain the rest to you." Nadir quickly continued on his way.

Knowing the secret her mother was harboring, Meg knocked softly so as not to startle her. An exhausted looking Antoinette Giry met her daughter's eyes when she opened the door.

"Come in and rest, little love."

"I can't, Maman." Meg scooted into the room and began wringing her hands nervously. Her mother locked the door back before turning to listen to her daughter. "I must tell you what I heard. The gendarmes have found the house by the lake. They are headed down there now, with the Vicomte in the lead. Oh, Maman, he is so angry, he will destroy everything."

"Things can be replaced child, lives cannot." Madame Giry hugged her daughter close. "Now how is Christine?"

Meg relayed a report of the fit Christine had suffered, that the cause was still unknown and how the doctor had to sedate her again. "She looks awful, Maman. Her neck is swollen so, and the doctor said it might cut off her air if…." Unable to finish the thought, Meg burst into tears on her mother's shoulder.

"Shh my child. Calm yourself."

"But the Vicomte won't let me visit again, she's like my sister, Maman."

"And Christine certainly wouldn't want you in this state." Madame Giry handed her daughter a kerchief. "You don't have to be by her side for prayer to help. We will do all we can, for them both."

Meg wiped her eyes and nose. "How is he?"

"Still asleep since he spoke to Nadir, and he wasn't sure then if Erik was aware of what he was saying or not."

"Monsieur Nadir said something of a plan."

"I would rather that you stay unaware of the details, ma petite. If something should go wrong, it will be better for you to truly not have an idea of what was planned." Madame Giry rechecked the locked door before going over to the hidden panel. "Lie down and rest awhile Meg. I must check on Erik. But remember Meg," she paused as she slid the panel open. "Do not open the door for anyone without alerting me first."

Meg wearily sat on the bed, its lumpy surface never feeling as good as it had that moment. "Yes Maman." Her eyes were closed before her head fully lay upon the pillow.

Mother regarded daughter for a quiet moment before turning to enter the secret room, the panel closing noiselessly behind her.

The group of men carefully picked their way into the cellars below the Opera Populaire. Even with the torches they carried, the darkness seemed to engulf them. Footsteps echoed and the slightest whisper seemed as a shout. The younger men in the group attempted to bolster one another through promises of what they would do to torture the infamous opera ghost once he was captured.

"You fools will never get close." The lead man stopped. "A deaf man would hear you coming. Now stay quiet and let us keep going. There are another two levels to go down."

With that chastisement complete, the group returned to their steady pace. Continuing down the passageway to the next stairwell proved to be a simple enough task to Raoul. He allowed his mind to roam over the tempting thoughts of what torture he would find suitable for such a devil. _Christine obviously hadn't been in her right mind on that stage tonight. I don't know what influence you have, you devil, but you won't get to use it on her again._

"What is that?" The harsh whisper jarred Raoul from his thoughts. Up ahead, in the darkness a small light was floating towards them. Joining the light was a continuous, high-pitched noise that increased in volume as the light moved upon them.

"Get your weapons ready. Move against the wall. Ready…." The commands peppered out.

"Put out your lights…" a hoarse voice moaned about the increased skittering sounds. "Let me pass."

"Stop where you are!" The commanding officer ordered.

"Let me pass."

"I tell you stop!"

"I am the.." the sentence remained incomplete as the echo of gunfire resounded in the corridor. The previously floating light fell to the floor, illuminating the dozens of rodents before the man fell on top of them. Scurrying in panic, the rats ran to the next visible light source. The rodents assailed the gendarmes as they climbed up their boots and pants, biting in their panic.

"You shot the damned rat catcher!" Raoul kicked another pair of rats. "Damned fools!"

The next several minutes continued in the same manner until the remaining rats had fled past the men. One gendarme went to the body. Turning it over, he regarded the filthy man. "It's not the one we're after sir."

"Then let's get moving."

The group resumed their original formation and began anew, starting down the last stairwell.

"After all that noise we should have just sent a card announcing our arrival." Raoul remarked irritably.

"If the man had followed orders, it wouldn't have been a problem. Besides, Monsieur," the officer said smugly. "If he is in that area, he won't have gotten past the stationed guards."

"Yes, yes, your men have shown remarkable aptitude so far." The lead man stopped suddenly and Raoul ran into him. "What now?"

"Sir, we are here."

The stairs ended into a pool of murky water. The leader stepped into the water gingerly, but immediately fell in waist high.

"I thought you had left men stationed here?"

The Vicomte hated the thought of ruining his new shoes, but stepped in anyway.

"They are at the end where the portcullis was found. I hope they have found a way to open it by now."

The men waded single file through the foul water, arms at the ready. Finally reaching the aforementioned gate and guards, Raoul pushed through.

"Is there a way in?"

"We have not been able to access any area past the portcullis sir." The guard nodded to his officer. "With more men here now sir perhaps we can lift it."

"I see no other option." With that simple statement the men lined up along the gate. Reaching under the water they heaved together in an effort to raise the gate. It creaked loudly under the strain, but did not yield. Several more attempts proved to be as futile as the first.

"There has to be some way…" Raoul muttered half to himself. Turning to the men he ordered, "Check the walls, see if there is some other means to open it."

Each of them ran their hands carefully along the stone walls. Several minutes of ineffectual searching ensued.

"Sir!" one of the men called to the lead officer. "I think there is something here."

He motioned for them to bring another torch as he placed his hands to the left of the gate.

"It was right…here…where did it go? Aha!" He smiled as his hands came back in contact with the small lever. "Here sir."

The torches barely illuminated the device, which was the same shade as the stone wall. "Well let us see if it does anything."

The officer flipped the switch and was gratified to see the portcullis begin to rise. None of the men spoke as the chamber beyond came into view. Raoul began to dash forward, but was held back.

"No, Monsieur le Vicomte. The men will search for the wanted party and secure the area first. Please wait here with Pierre." He motioned to one of the original portcullis guards. Raoul nodded curtly as the other men came forward and followed the directives given by their commander.

It seemed to Raoul that he had been waiting for an eternity by the time the captain returned.

"Monsieur, I am sorry to report that after a thorough search there was no sign of the _opera ghost_." At the clenching of the Vicomte's jaw, he hurriedly continued. "There are some things, related to your…um fiancée…that you may want to see."

Raoul followed the man up out of the water and into the main chamber. Taking one of the offered torches, he walked carefully up the few stone steps. He saw the other men regarding him oddly, and felt his unease grow. "Well what is it?"

"This way Monsieur." The gendarme's voice had a peculiar tone. "Past the entry."

The next room, illuminated from the candles lit by the men, stopped Raoul cold. His jaw dropped as he saw hundreds of images of _his_ Christine everywhere.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N- I know this took forever, but life has a way of keeping you busy. Thanks reviewers: Sorry- no coffin for Erik- too Dracula-esque for me and no cheesy swan bed either. But a bedroom done in black…sure. Don't like it? Call a decorator:)

**Thanks** reviewers: lostschizophrenic, witchy-grrl, starnat, soofija, YoukoElfMaiden, kristinekat13, midnightangel38, orphelia-Rose, Debbie, and big thanks to skbar for the Erik plushie. ( I will send more cookies to you all...but the plushie is mine mine mine!) 

I hope the extreme pronoun usage and the quick alteration between scenes agrees with everyone. It just felt like I needed to write it this way...dumb I know but here goes.

Chapter 12-

Everywhere he turned there she was. In charcoal, pencil, and paint the images of her deluded and overwhelmed him. Some portraits were singing, others were praying, while a few showed her in tears. All were remarkable in their accuracy and exquisite in their artistry.

_Had she posed for them?_ _No, she would not have done that. It…that thing- he had to have been watching her_.

Motioning for the gendarmes to leave, he continued his explorations into the next room.

The softness of her lips on his was astounding and powerful at the same moment.

All the rest of the world faded away as he immersed himself in the first loving form of human contact in his life. The bold lyrics of his masterpiece paled in comparison to the passionate sweetness of her mouth. With a feral growl, he let instinct take over and pulled her body tightly into his, deepening the kiss.

The feeble candlelight was an insufficient weapon against the darkness of the room. Black adorned the walls, the furnishings, attempting to devour any of the precious illumination. He walked into the room, noticing that an immense bed covered in rumpled black linens consumed most of the available space. Placing a hand upon the sheets he noticed they were quite cold. No one had been there in some time. So where was he hiding?

His hands ran up her back to her bare shoulders, wanting to savor every inch of his angel. Her mouth parted from his, lips swollen from the intensity of their kiss. His eyes darkened, thinking she meant to pull back, deny what she felt, leave him again. Instead her hands gently reached up to his face and pulled the mask away. He tried to turn, to keep her intense scrutiny away from the marred portion of his face.

More papers covered the floor beside the bed. Kneeling down to investigate he illuminated the jumble of manuscripts and sketches with the torch in his hand. He found more of the carefully crafted sketches of his fiancée, these showing her in various costumes from opera productions. He tossed them back on the floor, then shuffled through the manuscripts. The scribbled notes meant nothing to him and he stood back up, resisting the impulse to ignite the accumulated rubbish…. for the moment.

_Do not look at me!_

She would not cease, her soft stare cutting him to the core. He heard his name whispered reverently and finally relented to turn and face her.

_Why? Not again…_

This time there were no screams, no look of horror upon her face. His breath caught as he saw the smile upon her lips.

_Impossible…_

Her hand reached up, softly touching the twisted flesh. He quivered at the sensations coursing through him, but then he saw the tears in her eyes. He pushed her hand away.

_I don't want your pity._

She shook her head softly, seemingly able to hear his thoughts and brought her lips to his face, leaving no skin untouched by her kisses. His mind raced, deluded by the power of her caress.

_You don't mean this…_

_You can't want this…_

_You can't love…me._

She paused at his lips, and looked him in the eyes.

_Yes I do._

_Yes I can._

_All of you._

He moved around the room, looking for any sign, any clue that might help in the hunt. A small bedside table caught his attention, and he quickly pulled the drawer open. A thin rope lay upon some black bound books. He picked it up, evaluating the odd weapon, then pocketed it.

He turned her in his arms, burying his face in her, unwilling to let her see his tears. She pulled his arms around her, willingly moving his hands along her body. He kissed her neck, nipping the skin, relishing the soft moans that escaped her. She turned back to face him, searching for his mouth again.

_Please …_

He had never been able to deny her. He pulled her tightly to him, ravishing her mouth with his, exploring her with his hands.

_More…_

He could not deny her now.

His hands, so nimble with music, fumbled with her garments. He cursed himself, but she simply smiled at him, kissing his lips softly while her hands assisted his.

He rummaged through the drawer, looking for anything else that might be useful. Finding nothing he moved over to the black wardrobe. Jerking the doors open he pulled the clothing from its place, tossing it on the floor. The collection of wigs followed. A crash echoed through the chamber as glass containers were shattered. Pleasure at destroying the creature's belongings coursed through his veins.

_The only thing better will be doing this to that thing itself._

The wardrobe empty, he moved to a small trunk. Finding it locked, he kicked the lid open, relishing in the destruction. Masks of various designs and materials stared back at him. He dumped them on the floor, scattering them about. A black portfolio fell on top of the mess, and he quickly scooped it up. Expecting to find more music manuscripts to shred, his jaw dropped at the sight he met instead. It was an entire portfolio of nude portraits, Christine's face smiling in each of them.

Her body was more perfect that his artistic meandering could have ever produced. His imagination had tried to capture her form, but the reality was breathtaking. Willingly she stepped into his embrace.

Raoul bellowed as he threw the drawings down into the trunk and tossed the torch upon him. The conflagration mirrored the rage in his soul.

He moved to pick her up in his arms, to carry her as he had that night in his home.

She screamed, burning before his eyes. Burning his hands, her cries burning his soul.

_No!_

His eyes flew open and met those of Madame Giry.

"She's dead isn't she?"


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Seconds seemed an eternity between Erik's outcry and Madame Giry's response. The pounding from his wounded shoulder seemed to carry throughout his body and Erik forced himself to control the wave of nausea.

"No Erik, she is not dead." Madame Giry's words were quiet, deliberate, worried.

He closed his eyes in relief for a moment, thanking whatever God there was for sparing her. Opening them once again he turned to look at the one person he trusted. "I expect there is a but…" Erik tried to take a deep breath and regretted it. "Do not spare me, Antoinette. I must know how she is."

"I will not lie Erik, it does not look good. Meg has seen her since the physician treated her; I have not." Madame Giry continued her narrative as she moved to pour a glass of water from the small pitcher. "The bullet hit across her neck and lodged in her jaw. It was removed and the wound treated. If the swelling stays at a minimum she will recover."

Erik struggled to sit up and take the offered glass. "You are hiding something, Antoinette."

Sitting beside him, Antoinette helped to guide the glass to Erik's lips, letting him take only a small swallow of the liquid. "This will be hard for you Erik."

"I have endured many hard things in this sorry life, what is it?"

She sat the glass down with a sigh. "The bullet went across her throat, there's a good chance it has damaged her voice. She may not speak, much less sing again."

A sad smirk came to Erik's face. "And to think…her Angel of music... the reason her music is gone."

"Erik…do not be such a fool. I could read the girl's eyes. The entire audience saw you kiss."

"And that means what Antoinette? That she was fooled by a lonely madman? I mean really…how deceitful can you get….playing upon a story handed to her by her father? Months of lessons, promises, encouragement…not for her benefit, but mine. You have no idea Antoinette…none at all."

She regarded him harshly. "Do not presume to think you understand what I know or do not know. Remember that I was in on your scheme, locking doors, emptying corridors, answering unanswerable questions. I didn't have to help you Erik. Why risk my neck and Meg's future?"

He turned away, refusing to answer. "Don't try to guilt me into believing your tale."

She grabbed his chin and turned him hard to face her, ignoring the flash of pain in his eyes at the sudden movement. "Don't belittle all I have done for you Erik. I would do it again. I saw her eyes before tonight's performance, and Meg said she has called for you. Richard may be long dead, but I do know love when I see it."

Erik's eyes never wavered. "But what if it's my love that will kill her?"

"You did not do this Erik, but she is in the care of the one who did. What else could he do to her? Jealousy is a powerful force, as is hate. He will not stop."

"So what is the plan?"

"When Nadir returns, that is what we must work out: how to get you both out of the Opera Populaire."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The small room was stifling with the combined heat from the oil lamps and the people within it. Christine lay unmoving under the blankets while the physician examined the wound. Satisfied that the new sutures were holding, he wiped the sweat from his brow, then turned and quietly instructed his assistant. Collecting his bag, he left the room paying little heed to the guards posted outside the door.

When Raoul returned to the room later he found it much the same, save for the now slumbering assistant. Not that the Vicomte blamed the man for falling asleep-it had been an extraordinarily long night, and the sun was now well over the horizon. He nudged the sleeping man awake with his foot.

At the man's confused look Raoul informed him, "Go, get something to eat, rest a bit. I will stay with Mademoiselle Daae for now."

Slowly evicting himself from the cramped chair he nodded. "Gladly, Monsieur le Vicomte. Thank you."

After the man had left the room, Raoul quietly pulled the vacated chair beside the cot. He sat silently, taking Christine's limp hand in his own.

"Hello, my love." He whispered softly. "I am so sorry I had to be away from you. It was an important errand."

_Very important_, Raoul thought bitterly as his jaw tensed at the memory of the activities of the past few hours. The gendarmes had torn through all accessible ares of the lower cellars, yet found no trace that the Opera Ghost had returned anywhere near his previous dwelling.

_You can't have just disappeared you bastard...you are flesh and blood. Bleeding flesh,_ he corrected himself_. I will find you. I will destroy you._ He looked at Christine and the thought of the portfolio of nude portraits flashed in his mind. Raoul felt his blood run cold.**_ I will destroy you_**.

His dark thoughts were interrupted as he felt Christine's hand pulling under his. Raoul quickly released his tight grasp formed upon her hand, instead lightly caressing her forearm.

"It is alright my love." He tried to keep his voice in a soothing tone. "I am here."

The shifting shapes and shadows of her pain and drug induced unconsciousness began to slowly seep back as Christine heard a familiar voice speaking. A tight grip upon her hand assured her that she was indeed not alone. Christine gradually worked her eyes open, instantly regretting it as the lamplight attacked them. Closing them back, she tried to move her hand to shield her eyes from the probing glare.

"Christine?" The voice called again. "Love, can you hear me?" Feeling the touch upon her arm, Christine moved it in response.

"Open your eyes love. Look at me little Lotte."

_But it hurts to open them. I want to go back where it's dark. Where my Angel is._

"Please love. Oh God I have been so worried."

Relunctantly Christine opened her eyes once more, squinting in an effort to focus on the face now above her own.

"Oh God, Christine." She felt his kiss upon her forehead. "I am so happy you are awake."

Christine blinked, trying to reduce the number of Raouls in her field of vision. That accomplished, she moved her gaze from his face to drift slowly around the room. The surroundings were familar, but she knew the room did not belong to her.

_Why am I here? What has happened? Think Christine think_. Her mind jumbled through her questions until the answer came to her suddenly. _Silly silly girl...ask Raoul. He will tell you._

Christine formed her question in her mind, wanting to be coherent. She felt her lungs inflate, felt her lips move to form the words, but no sound escaped as she was racked with a rush of pain. Raoul looked at her and she recognized pity in his eyes. Heart racing, she took a breath and tried again...no sound...only pain.

_What has happened to me?_

Her teary eyes flashed to his, desperate for an answer. Raoul tried to calm her, brushing his fingers along her hairline.

"Christine my love...I am so so sorry." She looked at him in confusion.

"That monster is to blame for this. You were caught in the crossfire and injured my love. But he will pay...that I swear to you."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 Broken

_Crossfire? Monster? Angel? Erik?_

Everything jumbled in her mind again as Christine fought to understand what had happened. She clenched her eyes shut, trying to work through the memories.

_On the bridge...Don Juan Triumphant...Erik was there...singing...holding...kissing ...me. The shots...blood...mine? His? Fly my Angel...darkness...pain_. Tears ran down from her eyes into her tangled hair.

_Where is he?_

"Oh Christine...let me fetch the doctor. He can give you something for the pain love."

Christine opened her eyes in time to see Raoul dash out of the room yelling down the corridor for the physician.

_No don't drug me...tell me what happened. Tell me my Angel is alright._ Christine felt a wave of nausea at her next thought. _If he is gone, oh God, if he is gone I want to die_.

The door opened in a flurry of activity as Raoul returned with an older gentleman that Christine recognized.

"Mademoiselle Daae." He spoke loudly and slowly as though she were mentally challenged. "I am Doctor Leroux, the Opera physician, do you remember me? Wait! Don't try to move, just blink once if you want to say yes and twice for no. We don't need you to tear these sutures again."

Christine grasped for the man's hand, desperate for answers. She succeeded and slowly pulled it to her bandaged neck and face, hoping her eyes could ask her question.

"This?" He pointed to the wound. "You want to know how this happened? Later my dear, now is the time for you to rest."

Christine's eyes widened as he took a syringe and bottle of morphine out of his bag and began to prepare it.

_Oh God no...not that again...not back to the darkness...to the nightmares_.

"It is alright love." Raoul appeared by her side again. "I will be here to protect you."

Christine flinched as the needle found its mark and the burning liquid made its way up her arm.

The room began to spin. _I must know...must know..._

She pulled on Raoul's arm, trying to get his attention. He leaned over her and with every ounce of effort she possessed Christine forced the question from her body in a harsh, low whisper.

"**_Erik_**?"

Then the darkness claimed her.

Dr. Leroux regarded Raoul for a moment. "Monsieur le Vicomte, it is imperative that she remain quiet. Trying to speak now could only cause more damage and hinder any chance of her regaining any sort of speaking voice."

"No worries, Monsieur." He looked at his sedated fiancee. "Erik will not be spoken of again."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N- Thanks again to all of you who have stuck by the slow (and sometimes too short) progression of this tale. Now that life has gotten back on a more even keel, I hope to keep the updates regular and lengthy. There's still a good deal of story to tell. Thanks again!**

Meg awoke with a start, the damp feel of the room evident now that her blanket had slid to the floor. Looking at the clock she was more than surprised to see that it was nearly noon. She scooted to the edge of the bed and stretched in an effort to relieve the tension in her muscles.

The room looked no different than it had when she had fallen asleep, yet the sense of unease coursing through her pushed her to check the door anyway. Finding it securely locked; Meg turned to straighten the bed.

A harsh groan from behind the panel startled her. The pain in the sound was evident even as the wall muted it.

_Maman must be cleaning his wound_. Meg sat down on the edge of the chaise, unsure whether to offer help or simply stay out of the way. _Help...Christine, Erik. I wish I had a magic wand to make everything all right for you both._

A soft tap on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Madame Giry?"

Meg instantly recognized Nadir's voice and unlocked the door. "Monsieur?"

"Your mother?"

"She is here." Moving to allow Nadir entrance into her mother's room, Meg checked the hallway before closing and relocking the door.

Meg motioned to the hidden chamber as Nadir removed his gloves and coat. "With Erik. Is there news, Monsieur?"

"Not good, little one, not good at all." He opened the panel and ducked into the room. Meg followed, crowding the small chamber to the point of discomfort but unwilling to miss the update.

Madame Giry stopped mid-bandage as both she and Erik immediately focused upon them. "Nadir?" Her voice held many questions as she continued wrapping Erik's shoulder.

"Antoinette...Erik." He gave them both a nod, a courtesy seemingly bred into him and completely unaffected by the sight of Erik's bare face. "The hunt for you has not stopped. The cellars, your home...torn apart. They now plan to search the Opera room to room."

Erik grimaced as Madame Giry tied the strip of linen tightly. "Well that should keep them busy until Christmas with as many rooms as there are here."

"No Erik." Nadir's voice turned grave. "The Vicomte has sent for hired men, several hundred in fact, to comb this place through. The reward is high for the man who finds you...dead or alive."

"I can imagine which one he prefers." Erik replied dryly. "So the plan is now?"

"It is simple Erik," Antoinette rose and dusted her black skirt off. "We have to move you out of the Opera...now."

"How Maman?" Meg interjected. "The Vicomte has so many guards posted, it was almost impossible to get in the opera last night."

"Ma petite, you think you know many things, but your mother has been around much longer. There are ways in and out of this place that a guard would never dream of. We simply have to get from here to there."

Madame Giry moved to the door. " And I think I know a way that can be accomplished as well. Come along Meg, you need to report to the dormitories." She took hold of her daughter's arm and gently led her out the door. "The less you know of what's happening the safer you will be."

With a knowing look to Nadir, Madame Giry made her exit and closed the door. Erik caught the exchange immediately. "There's already a plan, isn't there Daroga?"

Nadir bit his lip before nodding solemnly. "Indeed there is Erik, though I disagree with it. The risk to Antoinette and even to Meg is to high for my liking. She has had the idea since we brought you here."

Erik stood slowly, testing his strength and limitations as he walked carefully around the room. His movements, graceful even in pain, reminded Nadir of a lion stalking the barrier of a cage. "I am afraid, Nadir that you will have to explain my absence to Antoinette. I cannot participate in this plan, for as long as Christine remains here...so do I"

"Oh of course Erik...I shall be glad to tell her of that! Pray tell what good you plan to be to Mademoiselle Daae at the end of a noose? " Nadir chose to ignore the icy glare bestowed upon him. "Because that's exactly where you will end up. You may still have all the magic, stealth and cunning you had in the shah's court, but there are some different factors now."

"And I am certain you will enlighten me Daroga?"

"They do not believe in the Opera ghost. They are hunting flesh and blood. The Vicomte was there in your home with the gendarmes. He could not see me Erik, but I saw the rage in him as he helped to destroy what belonged to you, particularly when it came to anything about Christine. He will not stop."

Erik leaned back, allowing the wall to support his already tired frame. "Then what do you suggest Nadir? That I leave Christine in the protection of a man so willing to fire a gun at her while I run to whatever temporary safety is available? I have been called many things in my life Daroga, from bastard to devil, but coward is not a label I plan to wear."

"Erik, there's a difference between cowardice and intelligent planning." He motioned to the man leaning heavily upon the wall. "You are not strong enough to confront any of them. What good will it do Mademoiselle Daae to wake up and hear of your quick trial, conviction, and execution? If you love her..."

"**DO NOT** _presume_ to understand my feelings for her! And don't try to use them to convince me of what to do or not to..." Erik sat down heavily upon the floor, clutching his arm tightly in an effort to immobilize the shoulder. "I will hear this plan, but if I don't agree with it then I will take care of matters... myself."

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

"Very well, Erik." Nadir gave him a cursory glance before settling himself against one of the walls. "But would you please cease that incessant pacing, it tends to give the observer a headache."

"The pacing, Daroga or the lovely visage before you?" The scars pulled into a macabre smile.

"If you wish to be snide Erik, I have other things that I can be doing, certainly at a smaller risk to myself or those few friends that you claim."

"Ah the voice of wisdom speaks...but you are correct Nadir. I suppose my horrendous manners can be attributed to the small confines of this," here Erik paused to motion about the room. "but it is no excuse, especially when someone seems fool enough to attempt to save this carcass of mine."

Erik sat slowly, careful of the wounded shoulder, before continuing in a voice so soft that Nadir had to strain to hear. "Indeed...were it not for Christine I should be sorely tempted to let the gendarmes have their fun."

Nadir watched the conflicting emotions play over the marred face, letting the man in front of him attempt to deal with the wars raging within him. _The desire for revenge...the temptation to charge out and kill all those who have wounded you...Erik will you never be given the chance to find some peace?_

"So Daroga, explain this plan to me." Erik's green eyes held his unerringly, the depths of his angers and desires reflected plainly to Nadir.

Nadir sighed. "The entire Opera is still populated by desperate gendarmes, from the lake to the roof. Anyone entering or leaving is checked. The Vicompte is most endeavored to find you, dead or alive."

"This is not news to me Daroga."

"I am aware of that Erik. Have you heard of Alexandre Dumas?"

"The newspaper serialist? I prefer more serious works, Nadir, rather than that light drivel."

"I am not asking about your preferences in literature Erik, merely if you had heard of him before."

"Then the answer to that is yes, I have. Why?"

"What about his story _Le comte de Monte Cristo?"_

"Must everything now relate back to some bloody member of nobility?" Erik huffed impatiently. "What the hell does this have to do with..."

Nadir watched with a smug smile as the realization hit Erik.

"So the Living Corpse is going to exit the Opera as a dead one?"

"In a way."

"Explain."

"We have no dead bodies and even if we did the coffins would be searched. But an animal carcass, particularly one that is _ripe_ shall we say, should be hurried out as quickly as possible. Once we get clear of the Opera then you will come to my home and we will wait for nightfall to get you out of Paris."

_I am not leaving Paris without her_. Erik kept the thought to himself and his face devoid of emotion. "It could work. Are we to sacrifice some poor animal for my freedom?"

"No. Madame informed me that one of the milch cows from the Opera stables has died overnight. With all the hysteria over the shooting no one has bothered with it. So if we are to do this, it must be quickly, and that is assuming you can use your passageways to get to the stables unseen."

"Of course I can."

Rising, Nadir continued. "Then we should prepare to move on as quickly as possible. I will go and inform Madame that you agree to the plan and then move to the stables. I will meet you in half an hour." He helped Erik to his feet. "Anything else?"

"Do you know where my mask is? Or perhaps some spare dressings?" Erik motioned to his face. "It may not bother you, Nadir but even escaping in a carcass I would prefer to..."

"I understand, but I do not know where Antoinette hid it. We will lose time if we wait for her to come back and find it." He handed Erik a roll of linen bandages. "It is perhaps your best bet for now."

Erik took the offered coverings without a word and began his work.

"Do you need any help? Or a ..." Nadir cut himself off quickly.

"Mirror? No thank you Daroga the day has been painful enough, and though I daresay it may get a trifle worse, looking at _this_ is not a wound I wish to self inflict at this time. Now go on, I will meet you at the appointed time." He returned to his bandages as Nadir opened the hidden panel and ducked down.

The man had began closing the door before he was suddenly stopped by the call of his name from within. His dark head poked through the opening, a questioning look upon his face. "Yes Erik?"

The half covered face turned to his. "Thank you."

Though the door opened softly Raoul was on in his feet in an instant, pistol aimed towards the unknown intruder. The physician's face paled, his dark mustache a stark contrast as it twitched in nervousness.

"A thousand pardons good m'seiur." He held his hands up in appeasement. "I did not mean to startle you."

"Have you ever thought of knocking?" Raoul retorted as he relaxed his arm.

"I did knock m'seiur but you must have fallen asleep."

"Indeed. It has been a rather exhausting day." He ran his hand over his face in an effort to clear the fog of sleep from his person. "So what do you need?"

"I was going to look in on the patient and also inform you that the managers wondered if you could meet them in their office. The chief of the gendarmes has requested a meeting."

That roused his curiosity. "About?"

"I am afraid I am not privy to that information, sir. They simply asked me to convey the message since I was coming here anyway." Dr. Leroux walked in, leaving as wide a berth between the Viscount and himself as possible in the small room.

"May I suggest Monsieur le Vicompte, that after the meeting you retire to your home and get some rest. I don't believe Mademoiselle Daae will be able to travel for another two days minimum."

"You can suggest it, and I can damn well ignore it." Raoul stated as he donned his coat. "I am not leaving her alone in this building until that thing is on the end of a rope."

"Of course, M'seuir." The doctor replied as he placed his hand upon Christine's forehead. "If that is your decision."

"And I expect you to remain here until I return."

"There are guards posted sir."

"I don't give a damn about how many guards are here. There were guards posted all over the place and what happened?" He pushed aside the physician and caressed Christine's hairline. "_This_ is what happened and I swear that thing will pay for what it has done. and until I return you are to stay here."

Deciding silence was the more prudent route, the physician simply nodded as Raoul made his exit and then turned back to his patient.

"And so mademoiselle, let us see how things are faring thus far." There was no response from the figure upon the cot. He made quick work of checking vital signs before carefully peeling back the dressing, only to be greeted by an angry red wound and the sickly sweet smell of infection.

"This is not good...not good at all."

"He is not going to like this Andre, not one damnable bit." Firmin swallowed the brandy in one large gulp.

"Well what the hell are we supposed to do about it? We are losing money every minute that rehearsals aren't resumed! The gendarmes said they found..."

"Found what gentlemen?" Raoul burst through the door with little decorum. "What is the progress?" He looked around the room. "Where is the chief? I was told that he was to update me on the hunt."

Eyes shifted nervously as the managers each tried to avoid being the one to explain the situation. Firmin motioned with his glass. "Have a seat Monsieur. May I offer you a brandy?"

In two steps Raoul snatched the glass from the man's hands. It shattered into a thousand fragments upon impact with the marble fireplace, before the irate Vicompte grabbed Firmin's collar. "I am not here to exchange pleasantries you bumbling fool! I am here to find out _why_ that thing is not yet before me, and it upsets me greatly to be surrounded by complacent fools!"

"Please calm yourself, sir." Andre's short stature made his effort at disentangling the two larger men slightly ridiculous. "I assure you we are all on the same side here. Divisions will only weaken our efforts."

Raoul pushed the man away in a huff. "Efforts? I have seen greater efforts from prostitutes pretending pleasure on the ..."

"So..." Andre interrupted. "Shall we quit wasting time and update you on the Captain's report?"

"By all means." Raoul cast a sarcastic bow to the managers before taking the vacant chair.

"You are already well aware of the thoroughness of the gendarmes' search. The home of the Opera Ghost has been destroyed and no sign of him has been discovered since the...accident."

"Is _that _the term du jour? Accident? How can it be an accident when it is obvious what this thing had planned! Does Monsieur Piangi consider his near strangulation an _accident?_"

"I am sure he does not," Firmin interceded. "It was merely a poor choice of words. But since the gendarmes have not found any trace..."

"Do not vocalize what I think you are about to tell me, because I will not have it!"

"Monsieur, they have other duties, other posts in the city that they are required to return to."

"So the capture of a madman, a murderer, a blackmailer, and extortionist is the least of their concerns?"

"As the captain explained to us, if this _person _is still alive there is no where for him to go. His home is destroyed, and all of Paris is aware of the umm...distinctive features possessed by this man so he cannot hide."

Raoul stood slowly, a look of utter contempt upon his face. "Gentlemen, I can assure you that until that thing meets its end, I know exactly where he will try to go."

His steps were heavy as he walked to the door. "And I will burn in hell myself before I let it near my fiancee again. Good day gentlemen."

A/N- My humblest apologies...ducks from Punjab lasso. I have been blocked on this for so long, and finally the light at the end of the tunnel LOL. This will be updated at least once a week until its completion. Thanks for reading...your obedient servant.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N- Sorry for the delay...life (and relatives coming to visit) make for busy days. Anyhoo just a note of warning, the end of this chapter is rather gross/graphic (but it has its purpose) so please if you have a tender stomach skip to the end after the bold word almost. thanks...**

Chapter 18

The two men looked at the door as it slammed shut. Firmin was the first to break the standstill, picking up the brandy decanter and pouring one draught. He swallowed it and began to pour another before speaking.

"I thought the drama was to be **on** the stage, Gilles." He gulped down the brandy and shook his head vigorously, sending his well oiled coif into slight disarray. "But I swear this place has been nothing but one headache after another. It certainly makes no more money than our other ventures...and hell the chorus girls aren't all that wonderful in bed."

"Speak for yourse-- " Andre cut off at the glare from his partner. "Ahem. Yes you are quite right Richard. And I daresay our patron is becoming as much of a problem as the resident ghost, and I simply don't understand why he is raising such a ruckus."

"Hmmph. I think the thing crawled into a hole and died. I mean it was a good shot..." Firmin's eyebrows shot up at the glare from Andre. "Not the shot to Mlle. Daae you idiot! The one that hit the ghost...phantom...whatever!"

"You're most likely correct." Andre took a cigar out of his desk and sat down in his leather chair. "I mean what chance of surviving would it have? From what the gendarmes said no one had made it back to that _house_ that was found in the cellar...it's probably lying behind some old set, or swept by the current of that underground lake of ours..."

"Which is an explanation that I doubt will satisfy the Vicompte. He wants the proof of a body..."

"Well then let **him** hire the men to continue looking for one! The commander has already said that his men must return to their regular duties since there has been no further evidence found. And _we_ must return to rehearsals...there's no time like the present to at least use all the free press to fill in the seats for the next performance." He threw the cigar on a tray, seized by sudden inspiration as he grabbed paper and pen.

"What _are_ you doing?" Firmin walked around and began to read over Andre's shoulder.

Andre continued writing with a flourish. "I am hopefully getting the Vicompte off our backs and the Opera Populaire running again." He handed the finished document to Firmin. "We shall simply run an advertisement...an obituary of sorts."

Firmin smiled as he read the paper. "You may have had a brilliant idea for once, Gilles. This might just work."

"I thought so. And to rid us of the Vicompte's pestering all we have to do is produce a sufficiently decomposed body...no matter how deformed our supposed ghost was, any male should do if tall enough."

"Yes, yes..." Firmin nodded again. "Discreetly ask one of those body snatchers who work for those crazed physicians at the medical college and we could have a decent solution." He lifted Andre's cigar from its tray and took a long draw from it. "Provided that it can be done quickly and with the utmost secrecy."

"Hmmph. How many years were we able to keep our true incomes away from the tax hounds of glorious France? Surely we can manage a simple body and obituary, and the publicity will fill the queue once more." Andre got another cigar to replace his lost one.

"Well what are we waiting for? That damned patron is not going to stop breathing down our necks until he gets some sort of proof."

Andre sealed the document. "I will have this sent by courier to Monsieur Renaut at the _universite_. He will have the good sense to keep this confidential, especially with the promised bribe." Andre stood and walked to the door. "For if the opera ghost is dead, then the part of his salary that we don't pocket should certainly be put to good use, eh?"

Firmin watched his partner's exit and then turned to look out the window. He took a long, last draw upon his cigar before commenting to himself. "Make better use of it and get the hell out of this business."

* * *

There were more guards than Madame Giry anticipated, slowing her progress as it accelerated her pulse. She strived to maintain her normal, fierce manner as she walked the corridors, fussing at some of the cleaning women, comforting the younger ballet girls she came upon.

The men posted seemed restless and bored, not sparing a questioning glance for the severe looking woman passing them in the hallways. It was only as Madame made to exit the building that she was finally stopped.

"I beg your pardon!" She exclaimed as the burly man simply stepped in front her, blocking her path to the door. "Are we under some military lockdown?"

"I got orders that no one should leave the premises, milady." His breath assured her that he had spent more time imbibing whatever cheap ale had been available here at one of the least exciting exits of the Opera.

"Well I can assure you I am not leaving the premises. You may or may not be aware this is simply the _entrance_ to the stables." She hoped her face would not betray her as the lies began. "I am not leaving the premises...I am coming here as I have many times before...on a simple errand."

"And what would that be?" The guard belched on the last word, the odor of it temporarily covering the sour stench of his person. Madame grimaced at both the sound and smell before regaining her composure.

"One of my charges has an upset stomach. I have come here to simply get a fresh egg or two to use in a cure."

"Uh-huh. And why can't ya get that from the commissary?"

"They have to be fresh monsieur, plain and simple. And there is one place to get fresh eggs quickly and that is here. Now may I pass, before my student gets any sicker?" _And before I lose my nerve and fail Erik._

"You have two minutes, and I expect you to come back through this same door so that we don't have to scour this place for you."

Antoinette forced herself to give the man a small smile of feigned appreciation. "Of course, monsieur. I am sure you and the other gendarmes must be exhausted after the past two days, and with not finding anything, it is undoubtably frustrating."

"Well I promise you if whatever that thing was is still alive we will be here until," He paused, looking past Madame as another gendarme joined them in the hall.

_Something's happened._..._he's been found..._Antoinette felt a wave of dizziness threaten until she heard the new soldier's first words.

"We are leaving, Henri. Orders were just given."

"What about finding the..."

"Look, I don't know about that. I was simply told that the captain has ordered us all back to regular posts. He is only leaving Jacques and Michael as extra patrol."

Henri shrugged and then looked at Antoinette. "Well Madame, you are apparently free to hunt for eggs as long as you please now." He moved aside and made a tipsy half bow as he opened the door.

Madame Giry didn't argue, and nodding to the men, made her way quickly past into the stables. She took a deep breath of air, that though it was littered with the scent of manure and stale hay, was a great improvement upon that of Henri. **Almost.**

She followed the sickly, sweet smell of death and rounded the corner, the light from outside filtering through the door and illuminating the body of the old cow. The gases from the stomachs had already started to bloat the carcass, leaving the legs on one side nearly vertical in the air.

Antoinette shuddered and covered her lower face with a kerchief before reaching in her pocket and removing a small knife. She looked around again but found her only company a few chickens scratching around in the hay. Even they scattered as she shoved the blade as hard as she could between the animal's ribs and the hiss of contained gases followed. She made two more hard blows and then stepped away.

The sound of a cart upon the cobbled walk beyond the door startled her into hiding in a nearby stall, the horse within unhappy about the smell of death so close.

"Antoinette?" A familiar voice asked softly as the door creaked open.

She sank against the stall wall in momentary relief, and then made her presence known. "I am here Nadir."

"The cart is ready."

"I was delayed by the gendarmes...I still have to cut it open."

Nadir read her face and took the knife from her. " I will do it Antoinette. Besides the smellier I am the more likely we are to be allowed to pass with no problems."

He put the knife into the now softer belly near the udder and began to cut towards the neck, the entrails spilling upon the floor as the internal membranes were split.

"You should have fewer problems anyway, Nadir. The gendarmes are leaving." She stooped and helped him scoop the organs into a burlap bag, ignoring the ooze of fluid as she continued. "I do not know why they are doing so now, but it gives you and Erik a much better chance."

"Indeed. But where is Erik?"

TBC


End file.
